


Remember, Remember, the Fifth of November

by Riotstar



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Communication is Sexy, Fluff, Gratuitous British Content, M/M, Mild Smut, Romance, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riotstar/pseuds/Riotstar
Summary: They hadn’t spoken about ‘The Incident’, ever, and though he knew Thomas hadn’t forgotten it, it was firmly in the past. So he couldn’t just go to Thomas and say ‘Hey remember that time you tried to kiss me in my sleep? Maybe we could try that again?’ Could he?
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	Remember, Remember, the Fifth of November

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a prompt and written for the nice folks in the Thomas Barrow Fandom discord. This turned in to a completely different fic from the one I intended to write, because I decided to set it on Bonfire Night (also know as Guy Fawkes/ Firework Night) and then it kind of wrote itself.
> 
> Set after the events at the fair in the season 3 Christmas special, but before season 4.

**November, 1921**

It had been approximately four hundred and sixty five days since ‘The Incident’. Not that either of them had been counting. Four hundred and sixty five days, since Jimmy had been woken to the shock of Thomas leaning over his bed, kissing him in his sleep, and ninety one days of careful, casual friendship, since Jimmy had found Thomas patched up in bed, after saving him from a beating. 

He’d grown quite fond of him, in those three months, he wasn’t ashamed to admit. He’d found a real pal, someone to smoke with, laugh with, and make fun of Alfred with. Well, Thomas didn’t really make fun, but he was an appreciative audience for Jimmy’s mockery, so it felt like he finally had a partner in crime. They’d taken to staying late in the servant’s hall in the evening, playing cards, or sometimes Jimmy would play the piano while Thomas smoked and read, occasionally making requests for what Jimmy should play, or complimenting him on his taste if he picked a song Thomas liked. 

If the other servants found it odd, they hadn’t shown it. In all likelihood, they were just glad that the pair’s friendship had kept them both out of trouble, relatively speaking. Jimmy still caught Thomas looking at him with more than friendly affection, though he’d turn back to whatever else he was doing if he thought Jimmy had noticed, but Jimmy found he didn’t mind it, not really. It was nice to feel wanted, and now he knew Thomas better, knew him to be a kind, considerate man, somewhere deep under the surface veneer of sarcasm and defensiveness, he wasn’t as afraid of the idea of Thomas wanting him, in _that_ way, as he had once been. He was no longer the villain he’d been warned about, lurking in the shadows, waiting to drag him into a world of sin and prey on his pretty, youthful flesh. He was just Thomas, a man like any other, and someone he’d come to care for deeply. 

And even if he woke in the middle of the night, from dreams of Thomas sneaking into his room, leaning over him, with the intent to do much more to him than kiss him, that didn’t scare him. The fact he often woke from such dreams hard did a little, but it was the good kind of scared that comes with running recklessly down a hill, or the thrill of doing something you shouldn’t. Jimmy just didn’t know what to do about it. They hadn’t spoken about ‘The Incident’, ever, and though he knew Thomas hadn’t forgotten it, it was firmly in the past. So he couldn’t just go to Thomas and say ‘Hey remember that time you tried to kiss me in my sleep? Maybe we could try that again?’ Could he?

November had brought a brisk, damp chill to the air, and the countryside was covered in a thick carpet of brown leaves. It was the morning of the fifth, and the servants had been given the evening off, so they could go and watch the village's bonfire night fireworks. Jimmy found Thomas in the silver cupboard, and saw an opportunity. 

“D’you want t’go to the fireworks with me?” Thomas looked up from the plate he was inspecting, a softly amused expression on his face.

“Not taking Ivy or Daisy then?” He asked. “They’ll be so disappointed.”

“Pft no thank you, they’ll get all clingy, say they’re too loud an’ scary or summat.” Thomas smiled ruefully back at him, hesitating a moment before he gave his answer.

“Allright, why not?”

They met at their usual smoking spot, in the back courtyard. Thomas had stayed with Carson a little after the others had left, to make sure the family’s light buffet dinner had been set out appropriately. Carson would attend to their needs for the rest of the evening, with Mrs Hughes on hand to deal with any downstairs emergencies. The others had all made their way down to the festivities, laughing and joking with giddy excitement. Jimmy stood waiting for him, smoking under the brick archway, his coat collar turned up and his cheeks already turning pink at the cold nip of the air. Thomas pulled his hat lower and shoved his hands in his pockets as he approached. 

“Shall we?” He nodded in the direction of the path that wound through the grounds, and eventually led to a dusty road that would lead them to a field on the outskirts of the village. The air was damp as they walked, threatening rain, the bane of any bonfire goer, but it held off, and the crowd appeared in the distance, a mountain of firewood, broken furniture and old crates just visible over their heads as the path sloped down the hill towards it. They chatted intermittently, Jimmy regaling Thomas with a story of something ridiculous Alfred had said about cooking earlier, and Thomas laughed softly in all the right places, but he seemed a little distant and pensive. Jimmy considered asking if there was anything wrong, but thought better of it, and they spent the rest of the walk in companionable silence, until they reached the edges of the crowd.

There was a band playing somewhere in the distance, and various stands selling hot cups of tea, pastries, roasted chestnuts or bonfire toffee. People in sashes that marked them out as members of the Downton Village Bonfire Society wandered through the crowd with buckets, collecting donations for the cost of the fireworks. Jimmy threw a few coins into one as they passed, then tugged on Thomas’s sleeve, “D’ya want some toffee? I’m having some.” He asked. That seemed to shake Thomas out of his thoughts a bit, and he smiled at him. 

“Go on then.”

Jimmy walked over to the stand, and the seller used a small hammer to break the block of toffee down into smaller chunks, which he scooped into two small paper bags and handed them over. Jimmy paid and rejoined Thomas, who took his portion, and Jimmy immediately put a large chunk of the hard, sweet but also slightly bitter toffee into his mouth, sighing at the taste. “S’good.” He said with his mouth full. 

“That’ll keep you busy for a while.” Thomas laughed at him.

“‘Remins’ me off wen I were a lad.” Jimmy began, muffled around the toffee.

“You want to try that again when you’ve swallowed it? I’ll wait.” Thomas smirked, and lead him through the crowd, until they found a spot on the other side of the field, where the ground was raised and they could see the tip of the bonfire over the heads of the people who thronged around the fence that surrounded the area where the fireworks would be set off. After a while the toffee had dissolved enough that Jimmy could speak coherently again. 

“Reminds me of when I were a lad,” He began again. “Me dad used to take me to the bonfire every year, and me mam would make toffee at home and share it with the neighbours kids.”

“Sounds nice.” Thomas replied, his tone was genuine. “We didn’t go often, my dad didn’t like the crowds in the big parks, and there wasn’t really anywhere else you could set off fireworks without setting fire to someone’s house. And besides, I think he’d have preferred if the Catholics had succeeded.” Thomas took a smaller chunk of the toffee than Jimmy had and sucked on it, thoughtfully. Jimmy watched him with a little too much interest. 

Over the heads of the crowd, smoke began to rise, and those nearer the fire cheered as the bonfire was lit.

“Seems an odd tradition really, that we still celebrate the failed attempt to assassinate some king by burning a dummy on a big fire.” Thomas mused.

“I spose.” Jimmy replied, around another mouthful of toffee. The fire spread upwards, and the sky was lit with an orange glow. “It’s cosy though, don’tcha think?”

“I suppose it is festive. In a morbid kind of way.” 

“Fireworks should start soon.” Jimmy put the rest of his toffee in his coat pocket and rubbed his hands together. It had been warmer down among the crowd, but now they were a little apart from it he was feeling the chill again. He looked over at Thomas, whose cheeks were pink too, though he didn’t show any other signs of feeling it.

The first firework shot up into the sky with a whistle, like a bright yellow shooting star, and the crowd let out a collective ‘Oooooh!’, followed by an ‘Aaaaaaah!’ as it burst apart in the air with a crack, into numerous colourful trails. The first was followed by a volley of smaller fireworks, until the sky was full of bright colours and smokey trails, the smell of gunpowder mixing with the wood smoke smell of the fire. The crowd oohed and aahed at each one, gamely in the spirit of things. 

Jimmy looked over at Thomas to find him with a grim expression on his face, his eyes fixed on the bag of toffee he was holding, as he twisted the paper in his gloved hands restlessly. Jimmy wondered what was wrong, then realisation hit him. _Oh._ He didn’t really know what to do, so he put his arm through Thomas’s. He was extremely tense, standing like a statue with Jimmy’s arm though his, but Jimmy could feel the rise and fall of his chest now, and he was breathing hard and erratically. 

“We can leave, if you want. I should’ve thought… this reminds you of the trenches, doesn’t it?” Jimmy leant in so he could speak into Thomas’s ear, to make sure he could be heard. Thomas shook his head slowly.

“I’m ok. It’s not your fault.” He replied, he sounded breathless, but Jimmy didn’t want to push him, so instead he squeezed Thomas’s arm against his side, and tried to be a calming anchor for him. After a while, Thomas’s breathing slowed and he looked up, watching the rest of the display with a blank expression, but Jimmy had forgotten all about the fireworks, watching only Thomas’s inner struggle play out on his features. 

The display ended, and Jimmy realised he was now clutching Thomas’s arm with both of his, their sides pressed together. Thomas shut his eyes for a few moments, then turned to Jimmy, a smile now plastered across his features. 

“Now who’s clingy?” He teased. Jimmy let go immediately and punched him in the arm instead.

“Shut it.” Thomas was laughing at him, and everything felt ok again. But Jimmy still felt guilty for bringing him here. “Shall we go get a pint?” He suggested.

“Please, let’s.” 

Several pints later, they were making their way back up the now pitch black path towards the Abbey, the earlier discomfort now forgotten, as they staggered home. They had shared stories as they drank, and Thomas was presently telling him about a time before they’d reached the front line, when a fellow soldier had been caught making fun of a superior officer. 

“He had this big, bushy moustache, an this soldier had cut a bunch of hairs off the end of one of the horse’s tails and stuck them too his face, an he was stood on the table shouting orders, when the officer walked in, an everyone went totally silent.” They were both walking in zig zags, occasionally bumping shoulders as their paths met. “An the officer looked so angry, right…” Thomas continued, “and the soldier got down from the table, walked up to the officer, saluted, said ‘great mustache sir’, an walked off!” Thomas was laughing at the memory, and Jimmy was giggling too.

“What ‘appened to him?” Jimmy asked once they’d stopped.

“Nothing! The officer was so shocked he just kind of left, the man got away with it!” They beamed at each other in the dim light of the moon, walking side by side. 

The light mist of fine rain that neither of them had really noticed suddenly got heavier, pelting down in large droplets that broke apart into smaller ones when they made contact with the earth. “Oh bugger.” Jimmy swore. 

“Run for it?” Thomas suggested.

“Race you!” Jimmy yelled, already breaking into a run.

By the time they got to the house, they were both absolutely soaked. They staggered into the servants hall, giggling and jostling to be the first through the door. Thomas managed to slip past him, and put one hand on the table. “I win!” He declared. 

“Cheater, you pushed me!” Jimmy pretend-sulked. 

“Slowpoke.”

“Arsehole.” They stood chest to chest, grinning, daring the other to escalate the pretend fight. Then Thomas’s expression fell, almost imperceptibly, and he stepped back. 

“I’m going to dry off in the bathroom, before we drip all over the floor.” He straightened his jacket.

“Probably a good idea.” Jimmy Gestured for him to go first, and they began the long climb up to the servants floor. 

Jimmy’s mind was racing, his body full of adrenaline, and his mind full of thoughts of Thomas. Thomas, who had been through so much but could still laugh at the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Thomas’s body pressed against his. Thomas’s mouth working around the hard bonfire toffee. He shook his head, water dripping from his limp hair into his eyes. He had a choice to make.

The lights on the servants' floor were all out, the others must’ve come straight home after the fireworks. Thomas’s room was first in the corridor, and he went inside to grab a towel and some dry underclothes, then made his way to the bathroom, leaving Jimmy waiting outside. “I’ll come knock when I’m finished, you can go to your room, or wait in mine, if you like.” Thomas suggested. 

“I’ll wait in yours.” Jimmy replied. Thomas nodded and shut the bathroom door behind him. Jimmy stepped into Thomas’s room and began taking his coat and jacket off. It was soaked through, and so were all his clothes underneath, Jimmy didn’t want to soak Thomas’s floor either, so he took his shoes and waistcoat off as well, but his trousers were still dripping everywhere. He took those off as well, his braces going with them, and sat on Thomas’s bed in his damp underthings. The mad dash back to the house had sobered him up, and he was feeling the chill again now that his beer jacket had worn off.

Rain hammered against the window and the walls of the house, as Jimmy sat shivering on Thomas’s bed. An idea began to form in his head, and Jimmy made his choice. 

He took the rest of his clothes off, and got under the covers, leaning back into the pillows, his arms folded behind his head, and waited. 

A few minutes later, Thomas walked in, rubbing at his hair with the towel, he closed the door behind him and turned to face the room, his damp hair falling loose across his forehead as he dropped the towel in surprise. He looked at the wet pile of clothes on the floor, then up at Jimmy.

“Jimmy… is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” He asked, his tone careful.

“Clothes were wet, an it’s cold…” Jimmy began.

“Well get out, I don’t mind you being in here, but this is a bit much.”

“Don’t want to, s’comfy. Come join me.” Thomas had bent to pick up the pile of clothes on the floor, but he stood bolt up right at Jimmy’s suggestion. Jimmy smiled at his reaction, stretching languidly in the bed, so the sheets fell down to reveal more of his naked chest.

“Jimmy… what is this?” Thomas was trying not to look at him. Jimmy sighed. He didn’t know how to say it, but he’d have to try.

“Well, y’know that time you came into my room and…”

“...kissed you.” Thomas finished, looking pained.

“Well, what if you did it again, only… I’m awake this time?” He said, nonchalantly. Thomas finally looked at him.

“Are you saying… you want me to kiss you?” He said, cautiously. 

“If you want to.” Jimmy shrugged.

“Of course I bloody want to!” Thomas’s hands were in his hair, he looked wild.

“Well get over here then!” Jimmy beckoned. Thomas stared at him for a few more seconds, as though expecting him to change his mind, or tell him it was a joke, but Jimmy didn’t move. 

Thomas closed the distance in a few long strides and sat sideways on the bed, torso twisted so they were facing each other. 

“Are you sure?” Thomas asked, he looked a little desperate, and Jimmy felt the thrill of his presence, so close, while the feel of Thomas’s sheets over his naked body added to the sensation. 

“I’m sure, I don’t really know what I’m doin to be honest, but I want to try it.” 

“If you want me to stop, just say.” Thomas looked serious.

“I will, I want this.” Jimmy’s hands were on Thomas’s shoulders now, nudging him forwards. Thomas leaned in and pressed his lips to Jimmy’s, gently at first, then when Jimmy didn’t flinch or pull away he deepened the kiss. Jimmy felt like every nerve in his body was suddenly aware and alive. It was awkward and messy, their teeth occasionally clashing together, but it was also thoroughly pleasant. Jimmy let out a small contented _‘hmmmm’_ , as Thomas threaded one hand into his hair, and began trailing the other down his chest, until he pulled away suddenly.

“Jimmy, you’re freezing!” He said, meeting Jimmy’s eyes with a serious gaze.

“Well get in and warm me up then!” Jimmy replied.

He didn’t have to ask twice. Thomas pulled his own shirt off over his head, and Jimmy scooted over to make room for him in the small servants cot. Thomas got under the covers with him and wrapped an arm, and then a leg around him, pressing him to his chest so they were lying face to face, Thomas leaning up on the elbow of his free arm and gazing at Jimmy with the softest expression he’d ever seen on him.

“What changed?” Thomas asked.

“I dunno.” Jimmy rubbed his fingers idly across Thomas’s stomach as he considered the question for a moment. “I ‘spose I just realised, I care about you, as much as I could any girl, and there’s no wrong in that.” He smiled sheepishly. “I’m still not sure if I like men, at least not the way you do, but I like you.”

“Well, you picked a dramatic way of showing it, I’ll give you that!” Thomas laughed, pulling him even closer, and Jimmy felt a new thrill of excitement as their crotches pressed together. Thomas kissed him again softly, then rested his head on the pillow, so Jimmy was cradled against his chest and Thomas’s lips rested gently against his forehead. 

They lay like that for a while, and Jimmy thought Thomas might have fallen asleep, his breathing slow and relaxed, until Jimmy extracted one of his hands from where they were pressed between them, and ran it tentatively over the curve of Thomas’s arse. He felt Thomas’s lips twitch into a smile.

“You’re something else, Jimmy Kent.” Thomas murmured sleepily. He ran one of his hands down Jimmy’s side, across a prominent hip bone, and between Jimmy’s legs, until he was cupping Jimmy’s balls. Jimmy felt arousal start to build in the pit of his stomach, and suppressed the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“That’s why you love me.” He replied, and it felt good to say it outloud. He pinched one of Thomas’s bum cheeks for emphasis. 

“True.” Thomas moved down to claim his lips again, and they began a careful, leisurely exploration of each other's bodies. The rain continued to pour, and Jimmy knew he’d made the right decision.

He’d remember this fifth of November forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> The prompt was 'is there a reason you’re naked in my bed' so I set forth to write smut and somehow ended up at wholesome instead? The title is the beginning of a poem that's often taught to children in school when they're learning the story of Guy Fawkes.


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